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Today's message draws us into the powerful and hope-filled vision of Psalm 2—a world filled with noise, resistance, and unrest set against the unshakable calm of a sovereign God. This sermon explores the tension between human striving and divine authority, reminding us that no matter how unstable things may feel, God’s purposes remain steady and unshaken. With a tone that is both thoughtful and accessible, it invites us to reflect on where we place our trust and how we respond to a King who rules not with oppression, but with justice, mercy, and invitation. Whether you’re wrestling with doubt, feeling overwhelmed by the noise of the world, or simply looking for encouragement, this message offers a meaningful and grounded perspective rooted in timeless truth. Psalm 2 doesn’t just challenge us—it welcomes us into a deeper understanding of God’s authority and care, pointing us toward a peace that doesn’t ignore reality but rises above it. Come as you are, listen with an open heart, and discover the kind of peace that reshapes how we see everything.

Step into the opening of our new series, Psalms: The Language of Faith, as we explore Psalm 1 and discover what it means to truly live a rooted, God-centered life. This message invites us to move beyond seeing the Psalms as just songs or poetry and instead embrace them as a powerful, God-given language—words that help us respond to Him in every season. Through the contrast of the righteous and the wicked, we’re reminded that the “good life” isn’t about circumstances, but about what is shaping and feeding our soul. As we unpack the ideas of delight and meditation, we’re challenged to rethink our relationship with God’s Word—not as a task to complete, but as a source of life to continually return to. Like a tree planted by streams of water, a life rooted in God produces lasting strength, stability, and fruit. No matter where you are in your faith journey, this message offers a practical and hopeful invitation: to grow deeper roots, to discover a richer way to connect with God, and to develop a language of faith that carries you through every moment of life.

In Gospel of Mark chapter 16, we arrive at an ending that feels unexpected—but maybe that’s exactly the point. Instead of a polished resolution, we’re met with an empty tomb, an angelic announcement, and a group of women overwhelmed with fear and awe. It raises the question that sits at the center of Easter: what do we do with the resurrection of Jesus Christ? The angel declares the truth—“He is risen”—but also gives a directive: go and tell. Even in these first moments, we see that the resurrection isn’t just something to believe; it’s something that moves us. And in the mention of Peter, we’re reminded that the heart of the resurrection is restoration. The same disciple who failed, denied, and ran is the one Jesus is already moving toward in grace. But Mark doesn’t tie everything up neatly—he leaves us in the tension of decision. The women flee in fear, standing in the gap between doubt and belief, reason and faith. And maybe that’s where many of us find ourselves too. Easter reminds us that faith isn’t the absence of doubt—it’s courage in the middle of it. The resurrection proves that Jesus made His move: He is who He said He is, and He did what He came to do. Now the question turns to us—what’s our move? Whether it’s taking a first step of faith, returning after wandering, or asking the Holy Spirit to lead what’s next, this moment invites a response. Because the story doesn’t end at the empty tomb—it continues in us as we trust in Jesus, become like Him, and live out the good news together. Resources mentioned in the message: The Gospel of Mark is missing its ending? – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9RsHnb7huk Two Ways to Live: https://twowaystolive.com/

We don’t naturally move toward discomfort—we avoid it, manage it, and keep it at a distance. But the story at the center of our faith invites us to do the opposite. As we walk through Gospel of Mark, the question rises again and again: who is Jesus Christ? The answer unfolds not in power as we expect it, but through suffering we’d rather ignore. The crown of thorns, the robe, the mocking cries of “hail, king”—what looks like humiliation is actually a kind of coronation. The King is lifted up, not onto a throne, but onto a cross. Join us for our Good Friday service as we slow down and sit in this reality together—honestly, reverently—allowing the weight of what Jesus endured to shape our understanding of who He is and what He has done. As darkness covers the land, we begin to see that this moment is more than physical suffering—it is something deeply spiritual and cosmic. When Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—echoing Psalm 22—we witness the depth of what He takes on in our place. The One who is light steps into darkness so that we might be brought into life. And in a stunning turn, a Roman centurion declares what so many had missed: this truly is the Son of God. The veil is torn, the way is opened, and the price is paid. Before we rush to Sunday, we pause here—at the cross—where gratitude begins. Join us as we remember, reflect, and respond to the sacrifice that changed everything.

In this message from Mark 15, we step into the tension of a Savior who is both rejected and resolute. As Jesus stands before Pilate, falsely accused and publicly condemned, His silence speaks louder than any defense ever could. While the crowd demands Barabbas and cries out for crucifixion, Jesus chooses the will of the Father over convenience, comfort, and self-preservation. This sermon invites us to wrestle with the same question the crowd unknowingly faced: will we choose what satisfies us now, or will we trust the One who saves us eternally? In a world driven by immediacy and self-interest, the quiet strength of Jesus reveals a deeper truth—trusting God often means choosing Him when it’s hardest. Through powerful storytelling and honest reflection, this message challenges us to examine where we might be choosing “Barabbas” in our own lives—opting for what’s easy, popular, or immediately gratifying instead of what’s eternal and life-giving. Jesus didn’t come to win arguments or meet expectations; He came to fulfill a mission that would cost Him everything so that we could go free. And because He chose the cross, we can choose Him—even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or costly. This is the invitation of the gospel: to trust deeply, surrender fully, and follow faithfully, knowing that true life is found not in having it our way, but in choosing His.

In this message from Mark 14, we step into the unfolding suffering of Jesus—where loyalty falters, strength fades, and the weight of the cross draws near. From the upper room to the garden of Gethsemane, we see a Savior who knows exactly what lies ahead: betrayal, denial, abandonment. And yet, He does not turn away. Instead, Jesus reveals a deeper truth about suffering—that it does not break the surrendered heart, only the self-reliant one. Even as His closest friends fail Him, Jesus remains anchored in His purpose, choosing obedience over escape, surrender over self-preservation. Through these three scenes, we are invited into a better way to endure suffering: with prayer, with surrender, and within community. Jesus models what it means to bring our anguish honestly before the Father while still trusting His will above our own. He shows us that suffering, when rooted in Him, does not define us—our identity in Him does. Whether we face deserved, innocent, or righteous suffering, the call remains the same: trust the One who endured it all without breaking. This is not just the story of His suffering—it is the path He lays before us, leading to redemption, resilience, and a faith that holds firm.

In Mark 14:1–25, we’re invited into a tension-filled moment where devotion and betrayal sit side by side. A woman breaks open an alabaster jar and pours out costly perfume—an act others call wasteful, but Jesus calls beautiful. At the same time, Judas quietly prepares to trade Jesus for silver. It’s a scene that confronts us with a question: what is Jesus worth to us? Is He someone we measure and manage, or someone we surrender to without reservation? In a world driven by efficiency and image, this passage reminds us that authentic worship is often misunderstood—and always costly. As the story moves to the Last Supper, Jesus reframes everything through bread and cup, pointing to a sacrifice that redefines love and loyalty. Even as betrayal looms, He offers Himself freely. This isn’t just a historical moment—it’s an invitation. To examine our own hearts. To recognize where we’ve held back. And to respond not with calculated gestures, but with wholehearted trust. Because in the kingdom Jesus ushers in, the greatest act isn’t taking—it’s giving everything.

When the future feels uncertain, how should followers of Jesus respond? In this message from Mark 13, Epikos Discipleship Pastor Jacob Machielski walks through one of the most challenging passages in the Gospel of Mark—a chapter filled with unsettling descriptions of wars, persecution, deception, and tribulation. While many focus on timelines, predictions, and end-times charts, Jesus points His followers to something far more important. Instead of fueling fear or speculation, this passage calls believers to remain steady in their faith, trusting the One who holds the future. Even when the world feels unstable and the details remain unclear, our hope in Christ is certain. Through Jesus’ teaching, we discover a powerful reminder: when the future feels uncertain, stay faithful to Christ. That faithfulness takes shape in two practical ways—looking for Jesus and staying on task. Rather than becoming consumed by anxiety about what might happen next, Jesus calls His followers to remain watchful, rooted in Scripture, and committed to the mission of sharing the gospel with the world. As we trust God’s control over history, we’re invited to live faithfully today—serving others, loving our neighbors, and bringing the hope of Jesus into every place we do life.

In this message from Gospel of Mark 12:35–44, we step into the temple during the final week of Jesus’ life and watch Him confront the religious leaders with a question they cannot answer. Quoting Psalms 110 and pointing back to the promise of 2 Samuel 7, Jesus asks how the Messiah can be both David’s Son and David’s Lord. The riddle exposes more than bad theology—it reveals hardened hearts. The scribes know the Scriptures inside and out, yet their love for recognition, status, and control proves they have missed the very One the Scriptures point to. This sermon unpacks that tension and reminds us: knowing who God is isn’t about winning debates or looking spiritual—it’s about lives transformed by the truth. The passage closes with a striking contrast at the temple treasury. As wealthy worshipers give from their abundance, a poor widow quietly offers two small copper coins—everything she had. Jesus declares her gift greater, not because of its size, but because of her surrender. Together, these scenes press one clear takeaway: knowing who God is shows up in how you live. From generosity to humility to daily obedience, our actions reveal what we truly believe. This message invites us to examine our own hearts—are we performing like the scribes, or trusting like the widow? And as we look to Jesus, the greater King who would soon give everything for us, we’re called to respond with wholehearted faith.

In Mark 11:27–12:34, Jesus enters Jerusalem and is immediately confronted by religious leaders demanding to know by what authority He acts. What follows is a series of searching questions and piercing parables that expose hardened hearts, misplaced allegiances, and shallow religion. Yet at the center of it all, Jesus reveals something deeper: true authority rests not in power plays or performance, but in the beloved Son who comes in humility and truth. In this sermon, we explore how Jesus dismantles counterfeit faith and invites us into wholehearted love for God — a love that engages our heart, soul, mind, and strength. As Jesus reframes the greatest commandment, we are reminded that Christianity is not about winning arguments or guarding appearances, but about responding to God’s initiating love with surrendered trust. Whether skeptical, curious, or long-time believer, this passage calls us to consider the authority of Christ and the kind of love that marks those who belong to His kingdom.

In Gospel of Mark chapter 11, we encounter a King who refuses to fit our expectations. As Jesus rides into Jerusalem to shouts of “Hosanna,” the crowd waves palms and projects their hopes of political victory onto Him. But this is no campaign rally—this is a confrontation. From the fig tree with leaves but no fruit, to the temple full of activity but empty of prayer, Jesus exposes a surface-level faith that looks alive from a distance yet withers up close. The message is clear: religion without repentance is nothing but leaves. Trusting Jesus isn’t meant to fit neatly into our routines, playlists, or Sunday schedules—it’s meant to overturn tables in our hearts and transform us from the inside out. In this powerful teaching, we’re reminded that what isn’t rooted in Christ will ultimately wither away. Jesus invites us beyond performative faith into a life marked by real fruit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Prayer isn’t about bending God to our will; it’s about aligning our hearts with His. Mountains move not because we name and claim, but because we trust and surrender. The question before us is simple but searching: are we asking Jesus to fit our lives, or are we surrendering to let Him change them? May our faith be more than leaves. May it bear fruit that lasts.

What does it mean to truly see Jesus? In Mark 10:32–52, as Jesus sets His face toward Jerusalem, we encounter two very different responses to the same Messiah. James and John, confident and ambitious, ask for positions of glory. Bartimaeus, blind and desperate, asks simply to see. Through this contrast, Jesus exposes the danger of spiritual blindness—wanting a Savior without the suffering—and redefines greatness in His kingdom as humble service rather than power or position. At the center of this passage stands Mark 10:45, the heartbeat of the Gospel of Mark: “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” This message invites us to pray dangerous prayers—“Lord, help me see” and “Where do You want me to follow?”—and to consider whether we are willing to embrace the cross and follow Jesus on the way, even when that road leads through suffering, sacrifice, and surrender.

In this message, Pastor Mark explores what it means to truly follow Jesus through three teachings from the Gospel of Mark: Jesus's words on divorce, His encounter with the rich young ruler, and His blessing of the children. Using the tragic story of Sir John Franklin's lost Arctic expedition, he illustrates the danger of depending on our own expertise rather than the one who knows the way forward. The central message is clear: following Jesus requires complete dependence on Him. Whether it's navigating the complexities of marriage, surrendering our wealth and control, or approaching God with childlike trust, Jesus calls us to depend on Him rather than ourselves. This dependent faith will cost us something—our pride, our control, our self-sufficiency—but the reward far exceeds anything we could achieve on our own. To watch the sermon previously preached more in-depth on the topic of divorce, click here.

Jesus’ words in Mark 9:42–50 are intense, sobering, and deeply clarifying. In this teaching, we’re invited to rethink what it really means to follow Jesus and live as His disciples in the world. Using the imagery of salt, fire, and sacrifice, this message explores how discipleship isn’t about comfort, status, or appearances—but about wholehearted devotion to God. Drawing from the Old Testament sacrificial system, we see that to be “salty” is to live a life fully surrendered, one that’s willing to endure refining fire so it can faithfully reflect God’s covenant and character. This sermon presses into two core expressions of a salty life: humility and holiness. Jesus calls His followers to lay aside pride, welcome the “little ones,” and refuse to let unchecked sin dull their witness or harm others along the way. Though the language is strong, the invitation is gracious—an invitation to self-reflection, repentance, and community. When we choose self-sacrifice over self-preservation, and obedience over compromise, our lives become seasoned offerings that bring peace, healing, and the presence of Jesus into a fractured world.

In this message from Mark 9:14–29, we encounter a father caught between belief and doubt, desperation and hope. Coming down from the mountaintop of the Transfiguration, Jesus steps into the chaos of a broken world and meets a man who prays one of the most honest prayers in all of Scripture: “I believe; help my unbelief.” This passage reminds us that faith is not the absence of doubt, but the courageous decision to trust Jesus in the middle of it. As we reflect on what it means to follow Jesus off the mountain and into real life, we’re invited to rethink faith—not as something we muster up, but as dependence on the One who is always enough. When our faith feels fragile, Jesus remains faithful. When our strength runs out, His power remains. Wherever you find yourself today, this story calls us to bring our doubts, our hopes, and our need for help honestly before Christ, trusting that He is more than able.